


when love speaks, the voice of all the gods / makes heaven drowsy with the harmony.

by incalyscent



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Hand Kisses, Kissing, Lowercase, Public Display of Affection, Shakespearean Sonnets, Sharing a Bed, because I'm weak, but it's a couch, god help me, i'm so soft, it has no societal value but i had a good time writing it, local poet does prose, lucifer does chloe's eyeliner, no beta we die like men, so many hand kisses, they're stupid in love, this is also the softest thing i've ever written, this started as an elaborately worded love letter to lucifer's eyeliner and grew from there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-22 23:22:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20330206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incalyscent/pseuds/incalyscent
Summary: “where’d you learn to do that?” she says as he finishes up one eye.  his gaze slips to hers briefly in the mirror before he resumes the task at hand.“ancient egypt.”  he says it with such casualty that chloe has to do a mental double take.  she can’t help imagining him in the elaborate khol that graced the faces of pharaohs.  how dark his eyes would look.





	when love speaks, the voice of all the gods / makes heaven drowsy with the harmony.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AKL](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKL/gifts).

> when love speaks, the voice of all the gods  
makes heaven drowsy with the harmony.
> 
> -william shakespeare, _love's labour's lost._

chloe wakes when the shower stops, the end of her artificial rain disturbing her to early morning sun and the smell of lucifer still clinging to the sheets. she can hear him singing from the bathroom, something she doesn’t know, or in a language she doesn’t understand, she can’t tell which. his voice is quiet, and low, and fills the space of the penthouse as if it was a blanket and chloe is shivering from the cold. it reverberates out, and if chloe closes her eyes, she can imagine the cathedral, and the mystery of the singer, and how the song sounds like it goes up to heaven before landing in her ears.

she pushes the covers off of herself and sit up, stretching until something pops in her spine. she puts on one of his shirts, the sleeves long enough to cover her hands. muzzily, she makes her way to the bathroom, hands scrubbing sleep from her eyes, until she can rest her forehead against the warmth of lucifer’s back. she hums, content, and shuts her eyes again, holding him around his waist. he radiates heat from his shower, and he’s wearing just a robe, and chloe is still prying herself from the gentle grasp of sleep. all he does to acknowledge her is place a hand over her own and squeeze, still continuing his song as all musicians do, and it rumbles through her, and shakes her into wakefulness.

when his song is finished, he lifts one of her hands to his lips and kisses the back of it, her palm, the fold of her wrist. he says  _ good morning, detective _ like she set the sun, and she kisses between his shoulder blades in retaliation. eventually, she wanders around in front of him to hop up on the counter, her eyes still heavily lidded. he’s trying to do something with his hair, trying to tame errant curls with some sort of gel. he’s barefaced but the water from his shower still clings gently to his eyelashes, framed by the faint circles under his eyes when he bats them at her.

“don’t look, i’m hideous,” he says, and chloe laughs, and he looks at her with such adoration she feels like her heart might stop.

“i actually don’t think that’s possible,” she says. his mouth curves like an apple slice, and he wiggles a little in place, clearly preening. chloe snorts, leans in, lifts a hand to spiral one of his curls around her index finger before letting it drift to stroke his cheek. he basically purrs, leaning into it, nosing at her hand until he can press a kiss to her palm. “you’re  _ very _ pretty.” 

lucifer hums, low in his chest. “i know,” he says with a grin, making chloe laugh. from there they are quiet. chloe brushes her hair, and brushes her teeth, and watches lucifer through the corner of her eye. his movements are more practiced than hers will ever get to be, carefully locking down curls and patting foundation onto his face. she does cherish the moments he allows himself to look unkempt around her - she still thinks about the sweatpants he’d once worn in an attempt to be respectful one of her first nights over - but he clearly likes to look put together, hence why he gets up so much earlier than she does. 

she visibly slows when lucifer rolls his eyeliner pencil out of the drawer to his right. it’s a fluid ease that he swipes it against his waterline, before he gives her a sidelong glance and puts on just a little bit extra. chloe’s face burns a bit, not unpleasantly, because he’s figured her out yet again. because in addition to him looking soft, undone and almost  _ human _ in his dishevelment, there’s also something alluring about his otherworldly qualities as well. and the eyeliner makes him look a little more sharp, his dark gaze just a little more potent. it’s a good look on him, makes her wonder what else he’d do if it wasn’t too far outside of the norm.

“where’d you learn to do that?” she says as he finishes up one eye. his gaze slips to hers briefly in the mirror before he resumes the task at hand.

“ancient egypt.” he says it with such casualty that chloe has to do a mental double take. she can’t help imagining him in the elaborate khol that graced the faces of pharaohs. how dark his eyes would look.

“maybe you could show me sometime?” the words are out of her mouth before she can think about them. he looks at her, not in the mirror this time, and his face goes happy and soft, like every time she mentions seeing him again it surprises him.

“of course,” he says, weaving his fingers through hers so he can kiss her knuckles, before he retreats back to the bedroom to get dressed. chloe closes her eyes, and carefully listens to the tune he begins to hum, filling her up to the brim with light.

-

ella catches them holding hands at the precinct. neither of them make to pull away, enough that she grins and can barely get through whatever analysis she’d done. lucifer doesn’t even take his eyes off chloe, and she can feel them, soft as rain, against the side of her face. ella sways on her feet, grinning, for a beat longer than she should and then she’s gone, and when chloe turns back to lucifer he is smiling, just a little bit, and she brings his fingers to her lips to kiss. his eyes turn away finally, off and up towards the ceiling, but that smile doesn’t faulter, even if just the barest hint of blood rises to his cheeks.

-

chloe ropes lucifer into helping her paint her nails, and at the prospect trixie needed her’s done too, and then she needed to do lucifer’s and then she’d fallen asleep on the couch and chloe had taken her to bed. it was late by the time he’d gotten around to it, gently cradling her hand in one of his own as he strokes nail polish onto her nails, a quiet, muted pink. she’s endlessly amused by watching the glitter of trixie’s choice scatter the lamplight away from his fingers.

“you don’t have to let her do that, you know,” she says eventually. lucifer doesn’t even look up from where he’s concentrated, but an eyebrow lifts.

“i do know, thank you.” he lifts her hand up to the light, turning it to check if the paint is even. “she’s not so bad, for a child.”

chloe’s heart wells up, and he must be able to sense it, because his eyes finally meet hers. she touches the side of his face, the arch of a brow, and neither of them have to say anything because she can see it in the set of his shoulders and the bend of his knees. he’s comfortable. he’s leaning into her touch because he trusts her. and he’s embracing the life she can give to him, and he’s learning how to be loved, and she’s loving him, and they can just  _ be _ . devil or not. miracle or not. he doesn’t have to look to put the cap back on the nail polish, or set it on the table, or nudge her discarded makeup bag on the floor with his foot.

“you brought the whole thing out for a reason, didn’t you?” he has a bit of mischief in his voice, so chloe grins. he sighs, not unkindly, but presses closer to her anyways. “we have to wait for these to dry,” he says, stroking a thumb over the back of her hand. she hums, leans into him, and he noses into the crook of her neck, puts a kiss there. on the jut of her collarbone. eventually, chloe cups his jaw and kisses him properly on the mouth, and he makes a happy noise against her lips. they both figure her nails are dry enough when she can run them through his hair, springing a few curls free from their product prison.

by the time he dips his hand into the makeup bag, he’s a little giddy on affection. it’s a good look on him, the corners of his eyes pleasantly crinkled, his mouth a gentle curve. he tuts softly at the state of the products chloe has, all a little old, maybe a little broken, but still perfectly usable, so she just rolls her eyes at him. still he manages to dig out the eyeliner pencil, even if he has to sharpen it with a shake of his head. it’s nothing special, she probably got it on sale somewhere, ten years ago, but it matches the colour her daughter had painted lucifer’s nails, and the thick lines of black under his own eyes. he touches her knee softly, strokes a thumb over it, before he cups her cheek. he just looks at her for a moment, his expression besotted enough that chloe’s stomach flips over. he pecks a kiss to her lips.

“you really are exquisite, aren’t you?” he murmurs, soft, and chloe wrinkles her nose, even as her face grows hot.

“shut up,” she says, and then kisses him. he laughs against her lips before pulling away, though his eyes stay dancing, stay warm and happy.

“alright, close your eyes.” chloe does so without a second thought, nuzzling into his palm when he strokes his thumb over her cheekbone. “perfect.” she can hear the smile on his voice. “try not to flinch.”

the edge of the pencil touches her eyelid, and she flinches. “ _ detective _ ,” lucifer whines, and chloe splutters on a laugh. he huffs, probably aiming for annoyed but landing more on fond.

“alright, okay, i’m ready now,” she says, and his thumb strokes her cheek, and then the tip of the pencil is back, gentler this time, slower. so soft she can barely feel him drawing on new stripes, his hands steady, lines fluid. he lines her top lid, and then her lower, but skips trying to do her waterline, and it’s considerate of him. his hand is warm and soft and solid against the side of her face, and chloe finds herself leaning into it, allowing it to make her almost drowsy in her contentment.

“alright,” he says, and her eyes flutter open. he grins at her, only taking his hands off her to put the pencil back and start digging around in its home again. chloe watches, amused, until his eyes lift up to catch hers.

“you don’t have a mirror,” he says, and she shakes her head. he sighs, and waves a hand. “go look then.”

he breathes a laugh she can barely hear as she slides off the couch with the enthusiasm of a school kid at a slumber party and trots off to the bathroom.

he’d lined her eyes well, much thicker lines than she’s used to putting on herself. she can see it now, the smooth, ethereal application of it; the same she sees in museums and history books, painted on the faces of pharaohs and kings of old. he didn’t do anything elaborate, save for a curl of paint at the corners of her eyes. they look like the blue earth, outlined in cosmos, lacking stars. she admires herself for far longer than she’d like to admit, before she leans back to peek at him through the door.

“i’m actually a little mad that you’re so good at this.” his warm chuckle floats to greet her, and chloe pivots to come back to the living room. “your powers are inhuman strength, desire, and eyeliner and i’m  _ not  _ joking.”

when she comes back, lucifer has rolled up his sleeves, his mouth curved, eyes somewhere else, out the window. he has put on a bit of her lipstick, wherever he dug it up from, a dark, deep red staining his mouth. chloe smiles, retaking her seat, turned towards him. he lights up like he hasn’t seen her in days, once his gaze is turned back to her.

“i’m glad you like it,” he says, his voice quiet. it’s late, and there’s a little tug at chloe’s heart that he’s considerate enough to keep his voice low to avoid waking trixie. she hums in assent, one of her hands travelling up to smooth her fingers over his stubbled jaw, her thumb just barely resting on his painted lower lip. his fingers circle her wrist, but he makes no effort to take her hand away, seemingly lost in her face, his eyes earnest and open. chloe can feel her face melt to match.

“very pretty,” she says, lifting her eyebrows and giving him a little nod. lucifer chuckles, and finally maneuvers her hand so he can lay a kiss to her fingertips, his eyes never leaving hers. her heart grows wings in her chest, rattling the cage of her ribs, wanting to go home to him. he is so gentle turning her hand over, placing another kiss to her wrist, his eyes finding half mast, relaxed, any extra tension bleeding out through his shoulders. he’s kissed to the crook of chloe’s elbow before she sees the marks on her arm, perfect imprints of his lips dotted up her skin.

“lucifer,” she says, voice wavering on a breathless laugh, and he hums his acknowledgement even as he noses at her bicep before laying another kiss there to rest, “someone’s needy.”

he scoffs, mock offended. still, he moves up to kiss her shoulder, and chloe lifts her hand to thread her fingers through his hair, setting him rumbling. she can see just enough over his shoulder to see the lamplight gleam off of the back of his waistcoat, and she turns her head to kiss his ear.

“it feels like you’re about one step away from reciting me a sonnet or something,” she says. he breathes a laugh against the curve of her shoulder.

“shall i compare thee to a summer’s day?”

a red hot stone of affection rolls up chloe’s chest. “ _ don’t _ .”

he laughs, kisses the side of her neck. “thou art more lovely and more temperate.”

“ _ stop  _ it.” she can feel his smile against her jaw. she cups his face. “come here.”

he’s still smiling by the time she drags him up to kiss her. she can feel what little is left of his lipstick come off on her lips but she doesn’t care, almost overwhelmed with her affection for him. she rests her forehead against his when they part, and he’s content to rest there for a few moments before he has to kiss her again on the mouth, both cheekbones, carefully on each eyelid as to not smudge her eyeliner. she leans into him, and he gathers her up in his arms. he’s warm, and he’s safe, and it doesn’t take long for chloe to fall asleep there, her face pressed up against his chest.

-

when she wakes she’s still there, but he’s laid them both down, even if there really isn’t enough room for them. his arms are still securely around her waist, keeping her from rolling onto the floor, and one of chloe’s hands had snuck under his shirt where it had come untucked for no other reason than the fact that it is warm. his eyeliner is smudged, lipstick smeared into his stubble, and chloe’s heart flips against her sternum. she’s sure the state of her makeup isn’t much better. there’s still kiss marks going up her arm.

“hello, detective,” he says, before his eyes have even opened. she reaches to wind her fingers through some loose curls, and then down to touch where freckles splay across his cheeks.

“hello yourself,” she replies, her voice so heavy with her love she swears he colours with it.

they only sit up when trixie wakes up for school, and while she grins at their state, she doesn’t comment on the trail up chloe’s arm, or the remains of the eyeliner. chloe rubs one of her eyes and her knuckle comes away black. lucifer snorts, averting his eyes before he gets up to sort breakfast.

afterwards, as chloe heads out to take trixie to school, she stops to pull lucifer down into a soft kiss.

“i’ll see you at work,” she says, her voice soft. he smiles, just like moonlight.

“i wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

**Author's Note:**

> god bless sabe for putting up with me they deserve the world
> 
> incalyscent-writes.tumblr.com


End file.
